


Beacon Falls

by Ozpin_Lover_MP



Series: Beacons of Vale [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Hurt No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozpin_Lover_MP/pseuds/Ozpin_Lover_MP
Summary: The fall of Beacon, from Dr Oobleck's perspective.
Relationships: Bartholomew Oobleck/Ozpin
Series: Beacons of Vale [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1296677
Kudos: 8





	Beacon Falls

It was a nice shop- unassuming but with a polish Bartholomew rarely saw. The lettering which read "Beaumond's jewels", was in gold, and Bartholomew would not have been surprised if it was real gold leaf rather than paint. 

Of course, that was to be expected here, in the Northern part of Vale, where the very biggest houses and most expensive boutiques resided. Bartholomew would never have shopped here usually, but Port had recommended it, saying it's where he bought his wedding rings. 

Taking a deep breath, Bartholomew opened the door. A small bell chimed, and the assistant who was behind the desk on the left immediately looked up. 

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked. 

Bartholomew nodded. "Dr Oobleck," he introduced himself. 

The assistant nodded and smiled. "And what will you be looking for today, Dr Oobleck? Perhaps a small pendant for a lucky girl?" 

Bartholomew shook his head shyly. He hadn't told many people, besides Port and Glynda, of his plans and saying it out loud only made it seem more real. "I'm looking for an engagement ring," 

The assistant smiled and clasped her hand. "Well you've come to the right place! We sell only the finest jewels - the kind that will make your partner feel really special!" 

The assistant quickly made her way around the counter, and showed Bartholomew to the display in the front window. They were certainly beautiful, with huge gleaming jewels in the center, many with extra ones embedded in the ring. 

Bartholomew practically balked at the price. Ten thousand lien for a ring! He wasn't paid that we'll for being a huntsman! 

"I was thinking of something a little less pricey?" Bartholomew said, turning away from the rings. "And maybe a little less fancy," 

"Of course," the shop assistant said, turning to him, "What sort of price range were you thinking of?" 

"Under one-thousand?" Bartholomew said, slightly sheepishly. He knew it was customary to fork out huge amounts of money on wedding rings, but he simply did not want to spend that much on a band of metal. Even if it was for Ozpin. 

The shop assistant lead Bartholomew away from the huge displays at the front of the shop and towards the much smaller cabinets at the back. The rings were still gorgeous, albeit a lot simpler. 

Bartholomew ran a hand through his hair. How in Remnant was he meant to choose? 

"Maybe if you tell me a bit about the lucky lady it might help?" The shop assistant asked. 

"Man actually," Bartholomew said quietly. "And he's quite… well… kind. That's the first word I would use to describe him. And intelligent, and brave if course- " 

The shop assistant giggled. "I meant that you should tell me about his style. Does he wear more gold or silver?" 

"Well, we don't have many occasions to dress up… but I suppose silver would probably match his style better. He has a silver cross pendant after all," Bartholomew explained. 

"And are you looking for something flashy? Or more subdued?" The assistant asked. 

"Something more simple I think," Bartholomew managed.

The assistant nodded. "I have the perfect range for you," she unlocked and pulled out a drawer beneath the cabinet of rings that they were looking at, to show Bartholomew an array of simple silver rings with jewels of varying colours. 

Bartholomew bit his lip. There were so many options! The emerald ones were nice, as were the diamond ones… and the black garnet was certainly striking although it reminded him too much of the Grimm. Maybe he should have bought Glynda or Port along to help him choose. This was so hard! 

"Perhaps an emerald one to match your hair?" The assistant offered. 

Bartholomew shook his head. He wasn't going to choose a ring based on the colour of his hair! 

Suddenly, he noticed one right at the back, almost covered by the draw above. 

"Can I see that one?" Bartholomew asked. 

The assistant nodded, and had to pull the drawer out a little further to access it. 

Immediately, Bartholomew knew it was the one. It was perfect. It looked almost like a wedding band, with a single white diamond in the center, almost flush with the band's profile. "This one," Bartholomew said. 

The assistant nodded. "Would you like it engraved? Also, I will need a ring size," 

… 

An hour later, Bartholomew left the ring shop with a small box in his pocket. He had chosen not to get it engraved, simply because he had no idea what to say, but he was happy with it all the same. 

Patting his pocket for the millionth time, Bartholomew couldn't help but walk with a slight bounce in his step. Was he nervous? Incredibly so. Was he excited? Just as much. 

The plan was to propose to Ozpin after the final Vytal festival tournament. He had already asked Ozpin out on a date for the corresponding evening- they were going to have a picnic on a hill just outside Beacon. The weather was due to be perfect, and Bartholomew hoped that they would get a stunning sunset. That's when he would propose- as the sun set and the sky when orange. Call him a romantic, but this was a moment of a lifetime and Bartholomew was not going to muck it up. 

Now, he really should get on back to Beacon so that he could get some decent rest before tomorrow's match. It was the first of the finals, and Bartholomew rather hoped that Pyrrha, Beacon's contestant, would get to fight. He always loved watching his students and seeing how much they had progressed over the year. And it was easier to narrate when he knew the contestant and their fighting style… 

… 

It was lunchtime of the next day. Bartholomew would have eaten in the canteen- but it he was tired and wanted some peace and quiet. And he wanted to see Ozpin. Everytime Bartholomew so much as looked at Ozpin, he got this silly, goofy grin, like he was a teenager with a first crush all over again. He was sure Ozpin suspected something, as it was all Bartholomew could do to wait until their date next week to propose. 

Bartholomew decided to grab some lunch from the staff kitchen, and take it up to Ozpin. Bartholomew knew that Ozpin had probably forgotten to eat. 

Making some sandwiches at top speed, Bartholomew then proceeded to go to Ozpin’s office. 

He was practically vibrating with anticipation at the impromptu lunch date when the lift finally arrived at it's destination. Had it always been this slow? Everytime Bartholomew went up, it felt like it took an eternity to mount the tower.

The doors opened with a soft hiss. 

“You really should eat you know,” he said, as a way of announcing himself. 

Ozpin looked up from his desk. “It can’t be lunchtime already?” he looked exhausted, with a mountain of paperwork behind and around his computer, and several empty mugs of what had probably been hot chocolate almost falling off the edges of the desk.

“It is,” Bartholomew put down the tray of sandwiches on top of some papers, and moved the mugs so that he could sit on the table. He gently reached out and touched Ozpin's shoulder. 

Ozpin looked up into his eyes. 

"Are you okay?" Bartholomew asked, "you're usually so much tidier than me," 

Ozpin leant back and briefly closed his eyes. "I'm just tired is all, with everything that’s going on, I’ve forgotten to overview the reports on the school’s finances, ” 

Bartholomew leant forward and gently pressed a kiss to the side of Ozpin's mouth. Ozpin smiled. 

"I suppose I could stop for lunch though," 

Bartholomew nodded. “the finances will still be there afterwards- there's no rush,” 

Ozpin raised his eyebrows at that. "No rush? Can I get that in writing?" 

Bartholomew rolled his eyes, and gave a clearly fake frown. 

Still smiling softly, Ozpin started to turn off his computer. “Why don’t we go down to the lake to eat the rest of our lunch? Goodness knows I could do with some fresh air," 

Bartholomew nodded, suddenly feeling shy at the prospect of a public date by the lake. "That- I’d like that,” 

So the two of them picked up their remaining sandwiches and went down to the lake. 

After eating, they ended up laying back on the grass, watching the clouds. 

“I feel like I could fall asleep you know- I can’t have had more than seven hours sleep in the past two weeks,” Ozpin mumbled. 

“Ozpin!” Bartholomew exclaimed, sitting up, “You know you need more sleep than that!” 

“You’re one to talk,” Ozpin snorted. 

Bartholomew sighed, and laid back down next to him. “Is that why you’re so stressed?” 

“It’s the other way around- I’m not sleeping because I’m so stressed,” Ozpin’s tone may have been light-hearted, but Bartholomew could feel the weight to the words, “She’s planning something, Bart, and I don’t know if I can stop it,” 

Bartholomew gently took Ozpin’s hand in his. “You mustn’t blame yourself if she manages though- all you can do is your best,” 

“I’m not sure the people who will die because of her will agree,” 

Bartholomew sighed. There just wasn’t any getting through to Ozpin sometimes. 

“You still up for movie night tonight?” Bartholomew asked, “It’s your turn to pick,” 

Ozpin huffed. “I should really try and sleep,” 

“But will you? Or will you continue to work yourself into the ground?” Bartholomew asked. 

Ozpin remained silent. 

“At least take one night off- it’s a Friday. In fact, why don’t you watch the match this afternoon? We’ve already got to the PVP stage of the Vytal tournament. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. The accounting paperwork can wait until tomorrow,” 

“I suppose I could-” Ozpin mumbled. 

“Please?” Bartholomew asked, rolling over to look at Ozpin in the eyes, “I don’t want to see you get hurt because you’re working to hard,” 

Ozpin nodded. “Alright. Just today. I’ll watch the tournament and we can have a movie night this evening,” 

… 

All Bartholomew could do was stare, as Penny lay dead on the floor of the stadium. 

Pyrrha stood in front of her, tears running down her face. 

Bartholomew’s heat broke for his student. He still remembered his first kill, fresh as day. At least that hadn’t been a friend. To think that Pyrrha had accidentally killed someone that she knew… 

“Cut the feed,” Bartholomew suddenly hissed to Port, coming to his senses. He had to get down there. It was bound to be chaos. 

First of all, he needed to make sure that some Atlesian official didn’t decide to arrest Pyrrha for what was clearly an accident. 

They also needed to try and calm everyone down before- 

The feed crackled, and changed. The screen went red, and a black chess piece appeared on it. 

There was a voice. Cold dread formed in the pit of Bartholomew’s stomach. He may not recognise the voice, but he sure as hell knew what they were trying to do. 

He sprang up and rushed the door, only to crash into it. It was locked. 

“What-?” Port asked, turning around. 

Bartholomew swore, and turned to Port. “Tie pin,” he asked, holding a hand out. 

“Don’t you have one?” Port grumbled, handing his over. 

Bartholomew raised one eyebrow, looking down at his messy tie, before turning back to the door and proceeding to pick the lock. 

“We really need to cut the feed,” Port muttered. 

Just then, the Grimm alarm went off. Bartholomew swore again. So much for reassuring Ozpin that everything would be okay. 

As he finally managed to unpick the lock, Ironwood came barrelling in, presumably to cut the feed himself. Honestly it was too late for that. The damage was done. 

Ironwood was on the phone, talking to Ozpin, but Bartholomew remained unconcerned. 

There were more pressing matters, such as the Nevermore on the roof of the arena. 

Bartholomew dialled his scroll in one hand, calling his locker and Bazooka to him whilst he ran down the stairs. 

“Out!” He instructed the civilians in the stands, “There are exists at the bottom of all the stairs. Everyone, please hurry to the boarding station,” 

He hadn’t really needed to say anything. Everyone was already running down the stairs at top speed. 

Still, he needed to appear calm. He was a hunter. It was his job to make sure that people still had hope. Hope that they would make it out alive. 

With a whistling noise, his locker suddenly landed beside Bartholomew. He grabbed his thermos from it. 

Port was rushing down the stairs, axe already in hand. “What do you think?” he asked, panting, “can we buy everyone enough time to escape?” 

“we have to,” Bartholomew replied grimmly. 

… 

“I’m sure that this day will go down in Beacon’s history,” Bartholomew said, sounding much more cheerful than he actually felt, “and I would prefer it if my students lived to tell the tale,” 

The truth was, they might not. Bartholomew couldn’t guarantee anyone’s safety. This was Salem’s plan. It had been set into motion. This- this was going to be a bad night. The alarm was still going off. Grimm were undoubtedly running rampant across the city. Thousands would die tonight.

Trying to push the morbid thought from his mind, Bartholomew threw himself at the Nevermore as the students ran for it. 

“One last fight Barty,” Port said cheerfully, “place your bets!” 

Bartholomew knew that he could never be as brave as Port. He couldn’t laugh in the face of danger and ignore the imminent feeling that he might die. Still, it was why they worked well together. They balanced each other out. 

“First to 50 kills,” Bartholomew replied quickly, “Loser buys the other a drink,” 

“Done!” Port said excitedly, shooting the Nevermore in the face. 

Bartholomew looked around. He needed to get some height. The weak spot on the Nevermore was the back of the neck, which was currently untouchable. 

He dashed up to the railing on the side of the stadium, climbed onto it, and shot the floor, propelling himself upwards. 

Mid air, he used to his semblance again, to propel himself onto the Nevermore’s back. 

Then, Bartholomew shot the back of the Nevermore’s head, just as Port shot it from underneath. It fell down, and started to crumble into ash. 

“Mine,” Port panted.

“What? I clearly shot it first,” Bartholomew retorted, brushing himself off. 

There was a scream from behind them, and more Grimm appeared. Port shot one that was just creeping over the edge of the stadium in the face. 

“Two!” Port yelled happily. 

“That’s your first one!” Bartholomew yelled back, voice quivering slightly. Despite their little friendly competition, he was worried. His mind was racing, imagining all the possible horrible things that could happen this night. 

More and more Grimm were crawling into the stadium. 

“Do you think everyone has left safely?” Port asked. 

“They’d better have,” Bartholomew replied, shooting another one, “We’re not going to make much of a dent in this lot, We had better retreat,” 

“Good call, my friend,” Port agreed, moving back towards an exit. 

A large Grimm, probably an Ursa, had crept up behind Port however. Bartholomew saw it, and his eyes widened. No Grimm was going to take his friend out on his watch. 

Bartholomew flew into his semblance, crashed into Port, and dragged him into the exit.

The Ursa leapt at them as they flew past and Bartholomew felt a claw snag his shoulder. His hissed, but didn’t stop. Thank goodness for aura. 

They rolled into the hallway and rounded a corner that was too tight of a fit for an Ursa of that size. 

“Thanks,” Port nodded at Bartholomew. 

Bartholomew helped him up. 

The two of them swiftly made their way to the docking bay, and thankfully, there was one airship left. 

They ran over to it and jumped aboard.

“All Huntsman are to protect the city,” an Atlesian soldier who was standing there told them. 

“What about Beacon?” Bartholomew asked, “there are hundreds of students there…” 

The soldier shrugged. 

Bartholomew looked at Port. On one hand, the city had thousands of civilians that needed protecting, but on the other… Beacon was his home. He cared deeply about all his students and co-workers. He couldn’t leave them to die. He could always help out in the city afterwards . 

Not to mention, Ozpin was there. Because of this emergency, chances were he was going to have to try out the aura transfer. He would have his hands full and need protecting. Not that Ozpin couldn't protect himself... 

Port nodded at him, already knowing his thoughts. “Go- I’ll protect the city- join me when you can-“ 

Bartholomew nodded. The airship took him to the outskirts of Beacon, and he jumped out. 

He ran as fast as he could, not wanting to use up too much more of his aura since it was already down to seventy percent. 

There was a yelp, and Bartholomew tripped. He quickly picked himself up to find Zwei at his feet. He scooped him up, and continued running. 

Just as he made it to the courtyard, and ran past the many students fighting, he saw Pyrrha and Jaune approach. That wasn’t good. Pyrrha obviously didn’t have the maiden powers yet. 

“Where’s Ozpin?” Bartholomew asked urgently. 

“Down- fighting- Cinder-“ Jaune panted. 

“She- she killed Amber,” Pyrrha added. 

That was bad. It meant that Cinder would have the maiden powers. 

It wasn’t that Bartholomew didn’t trust Ozpin to hold his own in a fight… Just that Ozpin wasn’t as powerful as he used to be, and maidens were strong, and Ozpin was tired. 

And he couldn’t let Cinder get to the students. She’d kill them. 

Bartholomew ran into the building, and made his way towards the basement. He took the stairs; even though it would be quicker to take the lift, Bartholomew didn’t trust it. It would give him away.  
He slowed as he got down towards the basement, and put Zwei on the floor. 

“Stay,” he whispered. He didn’t want Zwei to get hurt. 

He slowly crept into the room. Everything was dark. There was no one there. 

Surely, surely Cinder hadn’t managed to kill Ozpin already? There hadn’t been enough time.

“Oz?” Bartholomew called out softly, “Oz, are you in here?” 

There was no reply. No sudden lights. No Cinder appearing to attack him. Maybe she was off looking for the relic? 

Suddenly, Zwei dashed past Bartholomew’s legs, and started to paw at some rubble. 

“What is it lad?” he asked, crouching down to stroke Zwei. 

Zwei continued to dig, and suddenly Bartholomew saw what he was getting out. There was a pale hand. Ozpin’s pale hand. 

Bartholomew frantically started digging him out. 

“No,” he whispered, tears forming in his eyes, “no, no, no, no, no!” 

With a sob, he managed to pull Ozpin out of the rubble and into his arms. 

Ozpin stirred. “Barty?” 

“Right here,” Bartholomew replied, leaning his forehead against Ozpin’s, “It’s okay, I’m right here. I can get you to the hospital. Everything is going to be okay now.” 

Ozpin slowly shook his head. “I’m already- moving on,” he mumbled. 

Bartholomew shook his head, more tears falling. “Don’t say that, you’re going to be fine,” 

Ozpin shakily reached up and cupped the side of Bartholomew’s face. “It’s going to be alright,” he promised, “Just- look after yourself okay? And it we- if we don’t meet again- then I should take this opportunity to say- thank you,” 

Bartholomew shook his head. "No, no! Don't give up- you're not dead yet!" 

Ozpin smiled softly. "I love you,” He then closed his eyes. But he didn't stop breathing. There was still time. 

"It's gonna be okay," Bartholomew said gently, as he picked up Ozpin's limp body. He winced at the creak of broken bones moving. "You're not dead yet- and I've seen healers perform miracles before- don't - don't give up yet," 

...

The healers were overwhelmed really. It was only because of Ozpin's position as headmaster that he even had a bed on the medical ship. They had decided to prioritise giving medical care to the people they were sure they could save. Anyone else… was being left to die. It hurt, seeing Oz like that, still on the bed, barely having been tended other than to give him an aura boost. 

Bartholomew sighed, and gently brushed a hair out of Ozpin's face. "You have to pull through, okay?" 

Ozpin did not reply, save for a shallow breath. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get there in time-“ Bartholomew started, tears welling up in his eyes again. “I’m so so so sorry- I never even got to ask-" 

Bartholomew reached for his coat pocket before realising that he wasn't wearing it. His coat was in his room… along with the ring. There would be no way of getting it back now. 

He gently took Ozpin’s hand in his own. 

Bartholomew took a deep breath. “I really ought to get back out there though- They- the people- need me. I can’t remember the last time that there was a breach this bad." Bartholomew shook his head. "So many people are injured, and even more have died, and it's barely been few hours- I fear things will only get worse from here. And as someone who has the ability to protect people, I must do my job," 

Bartholomew leant down and gently placed a kiss on Ozpin's forehead. "Please forgive me for not staying by your side. I will be back as soon as I can," 

Ozpin, unsurprisingly, stayed silent. 

Bartholomew sighed. “I’ll see you later,” 

… 

Buildings were on fire. That’s what happened when Grimm got loose. People were being evacuated and someone must have inevitably left their oven on, or forgotten about a burning candle. 

So now they had to worry about getting people out of the buildings and onto the street, where the Grimm were, and try and keep them alive until the next airship came. 

“An airship will be here in a minute,” Bartholomew reassured the group of civilians behind him as he shot another Ursa, “There’s no need to worry,” 

Okay that wasn’t entirely true. Bartholomew wouldn’t be able to do much if another entire heard arrived. It was one thing fighting Grim in the wild… but protecting a group of people. That was a whole other ball game. You had to constantly be aware of everyone's positions, if they were likely to be hit by debris, and if they were in danger of being eaten. 

It was recommended that one huntsmen shouldn’t try and protect more than five people at a time, and right now, Bartholomew was leading a group of thirty. He was lucky no one had died yet. 

He killed another Grimm, and shot forward, to smack the one behind it on the head. 

The Grimm fell over, and with a smush, it was run over by a truck. 

“Need help?” Port asked, jumping out and shooting a Grimm across the road. 

“Never,” Bartholomew replied, “I’m on my fiftieth kill already,” 

“Very good,” Port replied, throwing his axe at an oncoming beowolf, “But I’m at eighty six,” 

“Do you know where the airship is?” Bartholomew asked quietly, getting closer so that the civilians wouldn't hear. 

“Apparently they’re having some problems in the air- apparently a mothership went down,” 

“Ursa shi-,” Bartholomew swore. 

There was a crack! and the building across the road started to fall. 

“We can’t stay here; if the Grimm don’t eat us the fire will!” Bartholomew exclaimed as Port pulled his axe out of the ground. 

“And how do you propose we escape?" 

Barty looked at the van. Port raised one eyebrow. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” Port sighed. 

“Everyone into the van!” Bartholomew yelled at the crowd, “There’s been a change of plan!” 

“Dibs on driving” Port yelled, climbing into the cab. 

“I’ll cover you!” Bartholomew replied, scrambling up the side of the van and standing on top. He shot a few Grimm that were wandering down the road. 

All the people were scrambling to climb into the van. They had to pile in, people sitting on each other's laps and many standing between the seats. It was a tight fit, and probably well over the weight and insurance limits, but that barely mattered right now. What mattered was that everyone got out of there safely. 

Port started the engine, and they were off. 

Bartholomew almost lost his balance when the van first jerked into motion, but he soon steadied himself. It wasn’t exactly easy, shooting Grimm from atop a moving van, but at least Bartholomew had experience using his weapon at high speeds. 

Not that this was the same he soon realised; he had no control over their speed or direction, and no way of knowing where they would turn next. 

He did his best though, shooting every Grimm in range. 

At one point a large bath fell out of a leaning building, and Bartholomew managed to shoot it out of the way just in time. 

They were approaching the inner city. The buildings were no longer on fire. Occasionally they would actually pass another huntsman. 

The van started to slow, and Bartholomew almost believed that they were out of danger. Of course, there were still Grimm in the inner city, they were just fewer and farther between. 

Suddenly, from across the street, Bartholomew heard a laugh. His heart stopped. He knew that laugh. It was unmistakable. Manic. Psychotic. 

They had ready left the figure behind, but Bartholomew felt like he couldn’t breath. No, no, no! This was not the moment to have a panic attack! 

A Nevermore swooped into the road. 

Bartholomew swore as the van skidded to a halt and he went flying. He smashed into a wall, which at least had the benefit of snapping him out of his momentary panic. 

Picking himself up, Bartholomew slotted an ice crystal into his bazooka, and froze the Nevermore to the ground. Then ran forward, jumped on top of it and shot the back of the neck. 

It disintegrated. 

Bartholomew took a moment to steady himself and take a breath, before looking back to the van. He almost screamed. Port was lying over the steering wheel, not moving. 

Dashing over, Bartholomew flung open the door, and scrambled inside, gently placing a hand on Port’s shoulder. 

Port was trembling slightly, and as Bartholomew pulled him off the dashboard, he realised that Port was laughing. 

“Did you see that?” Port giggled, “I used all of my aura to keep the van safe- I've never used my semblance quite like that before- and certainly never on so many people! I didn't know I had it in me! ” 

“That’s not funny!” Bartholomew suddenly yelled, “I thought you were dead!” He felt his eyes tear up, and furiously blinked them. How could Port laugh at a time like this? 

Port shook his head slightly, still giggling. “It’s okay, let’s get out of here-“ 

“I can’t lose you too,” Bartholomew said quietly, jumping out of the van. 

Port may have stopped the van or the people inside from getting damaged, but it was well off the curb with two wheels over a bench. They wouldn't be able to move it anytime soon. 

From a little way off, shots could be heard. Bartholomew started to run towards them. If there were more huntsman and huntresses then maybe they could help protect the group. 

Bartholomew rounded a corner. What he saw horrified him. 

There was Professor Harold, one of his colleges, not fighting grimm, but some atlesian AK units. What the heck was going on!? 

“They’ve gone rogue,” Harold said in a way of explanation, barely even glancing at Bartholomew. “I was in contact with General Ironwood not long ago. They’ll be an airship landing on top of that building in five minutes if you need a lift anywhere,” 

Bartholomew nodded and went back to the van.

"Everyone out," Bartholomew instructed. "We need to go to that building over there, " 

"Are you alright?" Port asked softly. 

Bartholomew nodded tersely. that couldn't have been Tyrian he heard earlier. Tyrian couldn't be here. It wasn't possible. It must have been someone else laughing. He was freaking out for nothing. He almost got Port killed… for nothing… 

Everyone started to run into the building, as Bartholomew and Port provided cover. 

Port had just gone in, when Bartholomew saw Harold get shot out of the corner of his eye. 

“Go! You’ll miss the airship!” Harold yelled, shooting at another AK unit. 

“And leave you to die? Not a chance. Now get behind me!” Bartholomew instructed, running towards Harold. He set his Bazooka to it’s maximum setting and aimed at the AK units. A gigantic ball of fire flew towards them and exploded. 

“Thanks,” Harold said, dusting himself off.

“Are you coming to the airship?”

“Nah, I’m going to help go and build the barricade,” 

“Barricade?” Bartholomew asked. 

“We’re building a barricade that we can then expand,” Harold explained. “Rid the city of Grimm whilst providing a safe area for people to stay. The other kingdoms will only take so many refugees. Now go, or you really will miss the airship!” 

…

It took longer to get back to the building that the airship was going to leave from than Bartholomew would have liked. No matter what Harrold said, he couldn't just leave him there, especially with a new wave of AK units coming. 

This was why Bartholomew was now running for his life. He'd seen the airship land atop the building and knew that he didn't have long. He used his semblance for an extra boost of speed as he climbed the stairs. 

He was almost at the top when his aura broke. Swearing, Bartholomew kept going as fast as he could. He burst onto the roof, just as the airship was taking off. 

Bartholomew sprinted at it, and took a flying leap. 

He managed to get his top half onto the floor of the ship, although he felt a crack! as he landed on the edge of the ship. 

Several people helped him on, and Bartholomew lay there for a second, trying to breath. Every breath was agony. He was desperate for oxygen, but he had to force himself to breath as shallowly as possible. 

Gradually he became aware of Port sitting next to him, gently squeezing his hand. 

“I think you broke a rib” Port informed him. 

“No sh-sugar,” Bartholomew replied, wincing. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you to the medical ship,” 

… 

Things were finally starting to get under control. Or as under control as they could be in the current situation. 

Apparently the AK units had a mass kill-switch for situations like this, so once someone had gotten to whatever command ship they need too, all the AK units had been shut down. 

Of course, that left the huntsmen with nearly no support fighting the Grimm, but they were doing their best. They had created several safe zones which they had rid of Grimm, with patrols going around at all times. 

This also allowed a few of the huntsmen to get a few hours rest, so that their aura could recharge and they could take over the patrols. 

That was why Bartholomew was now standing in front of a small flat, Zwei in his arms and Port at his heels. 

They had been given a place to stay behind the barricade. Although they didn’t have a key, Glynda was supposed to already be there. 

It was a small apartment. The main room had three single beds and a tv, and a balcony at the end. On the left as a door leading to the kitchen, and in the kitchen was a door leading to the bathroom. Absolutely tiny. But with all of the people fleeing to the inner city there was hardly enough houses at it was. this would have to do.

Glynda greeted them with a simple nod of the head. 

“The CCT is down, but local towers still work. I would recommend calling any friends or family. If they’ve been evacuated you may not have contact with them for a while,” she said. 

Bartholomew nodded. He had a few childhood friends he should probably call. 

"There's something else…" Glynda continued. 

The strained tone of her voice made Bartholomew snap his head up to meet her gaze. Glynda seemed close to tears… an extreme rarity for her. 

"James called me not long ago. Oz- Ozpin has passed on," 

Bartholomew felt his heart shatter. His world shatter. Ozpin. Ozpin. The man he was going to marry… 

Zwei whined pitifully. Bartholomew heard Glynda stand up and go to the kitchen, as Port started to approach him. 

H shook his head, not even looking up, and rushed out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. 

He sank to the ground, clutching his hair in his hands as he sobbed. 

He had been too slow! Too slow! He had been too slow to save Ozpin! His semblance was speed, who he was was speed, and yet he had been too slow. 

The pain in is heart felt almost physical, and Bartholomew wondered if he might be sick. He decided that he didn’t feel sick, it was just a terrible ache. It felt like someone had just ripped his heart out. 

Ozpin was gone. Gone! He wasn’t going to see him again. It was overwhelming. Unbelievable. Incomprehensible. And most of all, it hurt. 

Zwei whined sorrowfully again, and Bartholomew gently scratched his head. 

And he'd never actually had the chance to ask the question. He didn't get to see the joy and surprise on Ozpin's face when he asked him to marry him. He didn't get to hear the answer, as confident as Bartholomew was that it would have been yes. 

And he never… he was never going to see Oz again. 

Of course, there would be the next incarnation, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be Ozpin. They would be their own person, with their own thoughts and feelings, even if Ozpin did reside inside their head. 

No Ozpin, Bartholomew's Ozpin, was gone, and he wasn't getting him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry! Ozpin will come back- in like, 3 fanfics time... 
> 
> So this is actually going to be apart of a  
> series. I've got this whole AU where Dr Oobleck goes to Haven and then Atlas with the kids, and they use the aura transfer machine to put Ozpin back in his body. I've been working on it for over two years, and I'm so happy to finally be able to share it!


End file.
